


away with the boys in the band

by turnyourankle



Category: Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Crossover, M/M, Multi, Some Offensive Language, Warped Tour, but really everything is fine, in which Brian freaks out over nothing, minor Pete Wentz/Mikey Way, this is madness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-08-14
Updated: 2009-08-14
Packaged: 2018-04-15 12:51:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4607439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turnyourankle/pseuds/turnyourankle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Justin doesn't return home after visiting Warped Tour with Daphne. Brian tries his best to track him down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	away with the boys in the band

Brian is not a superhero. Brian isn't anyone's savior, and he doesn't have any kind of superhuman abilities to detect when something's gone wrong. The only reason people think he's got some sort of special powers is because he's good at noticing details, and making appropriate and (mostly) logical assumptions because of said details. He's learned to pay attention.  
  
In fact, when Justin goes missing, Brian's the only one to notice.  
  
  
*  
  
  
This is what happens:  
  
Kinnetik lands a campaign to do Warped promotion, and Justin, being the talented little fucker that he is, manages to make posters that please both Vans and the Warped management. This, of course, means that on top of paying them, Warped & co. send plenty of tickets for the year's Pittsburgh date. No one at Kinnetik really wants the tickets, but someone has to show. The honor (duty) falls on the latest hire. Enter Justin.   
  
Justin doesn't come back to work after his Warped excursion. ("I heard from the grapevine that Justin's not coming in today," Cynthia says as she pops into Brian's office after his first meeting. "Those rock stars must've worn him out big time." She smiles crookedly, and places the coffee she brought for him on his desk. "I expect to hear all the details.") He even calls the art department and tells them he's not coming because he has a new project that Brian's approved – something that makes Brian roll his eyes; if Justin thinks Brian's going to cover for him, he is sorely mistaken.   
  
Justin doesn't come into work the day after either. He doesn't show up at the loft, or the diner, or anywhere else in Pittsburgh. No one seems concerned except Brian, whose concern is largely due to a message waiting for him when comes home to after work.  
  
”Hi! Brian! I don't know how much the guys told you, but I'm not sure when I'll be back. I left my cell charger at home, so if you want to get in touch with me you should probably call the band directly, um – I'm not sure who...okay, you can have Gerard's number, cause he probably knows where I'll be most of the time – ”  
  
Brian replays the message – phone already in hand, ready to dial – shoulders and back straightening as Justin's voice speaks about people Brian's never heard of. Brian dials the number Justin's left, and it's answered after the first ring.   
  
”This is Brian calling for Justin, could you put him on the line?”  
  
”Excuse me?”  
  
”Brian. Calling for Justin.”  
  
”You don't sound like Brian,” the nasal voice on the other end of the line responds. ”And I just saw Brian five minutes ago, I really don't think he'd be calling me from the vending machines to ask what soda I want, since it's always diet coke. So. Who is this  _really_?”  
  
There's a lot Brian wants to say; Listen,  _Gerard,_  This  _is Brian_ , and I'd really fucking like it if you could put Justin on the line because he gave me this fucking number. He knows who I am, so would you just lay off the fucking act and give him the phone? And diet Coke? Is for pussies. He settles for something a little less inflammatory, however. ”I was under the impression that I could reach Justin Taylor at this number, you're Gerard, right? Could you please put Justin on the line?”  
  
”This shit always fucking happens to me – ” comes through, muffled, before the receiver clicks and the call is disconnected.  
  
Brian listens to Justin's message again, double checking the number and calls it again. This time it goes straight to voice mail, the automated sedate female voice telling him he can leave a message after the tone. Brian doesn't leave a message.   
  
Brian ends up smoking all the cigarettes he has in the loft that afternoon.  
  
  
*  
  
Not wanting to alarm anyone without good cause, Brian calls Daphne for a full report on what exactly she and Justin were doing the last time they were together, and to find out who the hell this ”Gerard” guy is – because if anyone were to know, it'd be her.   
  
As soon as he mentions Warped she starts babbling, delighted that he asked. It was loud; the posters Justin had made fit in perfectly – some had been torn down, which had excited Justin, because it meant something he'd made might end up on some kids' bedroom walls; some drunk guy spilled beer on her top, and how it was totally see-through which was really annoying at first, because some of the guys in the crowd thought that was an open invitation to touch, but it had also gotten her and Justin into the backstage area, and this is where Brian had to interrupt to ask about Gerard.  
  
”Oh, he's like, the guy who sings in My Chemical Romance. He gave me a hug!”  
  
”That's  _ni_ ce,” Brian says, not sounding like he thought it was nice at all. ”He was backstage?”  
  
”Well yeah, but I only met him for like, five minutes. He and Justin kept geeking out about art stuff, I think he liked the posters you had Justin make. I didn't really pay attention though, you know I'm glad Justin's passionate about something other than you but really, I get enough of that at home, so.”  
  
”And then you left?”  
  
”Well, yeah. I mean, I was  _backstage_  you know? I had to take advantage of that. And Justin seemed to be doing fine.”  
  
”You didn't find him before leaving?”  
  
”Well I – okay, this is kinda embarrassing, but I didn't so much leave as get kicked off the premises, and I called Justin and he told me to take the car so I just figured he'd get a ride home. But I guess he didn't need one.”  
  
”Was he going to  _walk_  all the way back? Or, oh, fly?”  
  
”Um, no. He stayed, duh. You knew that. He told me you knew that.”  
  
”Yes, of course I know,” Brian says, voice strained. "The GPS tracker I have him carry around has been sending me his location every five seconds without fail."  
  
”Jesus, Brian. No need to be an asshole about it.”  
  
  
*   
  
”And you didn't clear any expenses for a new project?”  
  
“Brian, all expenses are run through you first. There hasn't been anything new in a week. Maybe it's some kind of code,” Ted says noncommittally, Brian can picture him playing with the phone cord.  
  
“A code for what exactly? 'I've decided to drop out of school and leave my part time job to become a roadie?' Do I have to start drug testing you, Theodore?”  
  
“Um. I – well – I saw this movie with Blake last night and this girl was kidnapped and the guys who took her let her call home so no one would suspect anything, and like. She had this code. You know. Doesn't Gus have a code? Like if I were to pick him up, I'd have to say something, so he knows it's okay to come with me? That kind of code. Except, reverse. So like, a code for something being wrong.”  
  
“If I didn't know I paid you well enough, I'd think you were moonlighting as a romance novelist.”  
  
“How nice that you think I have such lofty career options, Brian. Really. It warms my heart that you should think so highly of me.”  
  
  
*  
  
The more Brian looks into Justin's sudden disappearance, the more suspect it looks. A few calls reveal the travel route of the tour – as well as the next few days' stops – and a well formulated request puts his name on the list of people to be granted backstage passes at the Atlanta show. There really is no way Justin would make himself this easy to find if he'd run off willingly. He is obviously trying to get help, and Brian's the only one who can.  
  
All Brian's missing is some sort of backup.  
  
  
*  
  
  
"I thought you were the one who went for younger, artistic types," Mel says, filling the cups on the counter with coffee.  
  
"He's an artist? I thought he was a singer?" Lindsay interjects, grabbing her cup, and pushing out a chair, gesturing for Brian to join her at the kitchen table.   
  
”Apparently he's both,” Mel says, and Lindsay cocks her head at that, eyebrows raising slightly. ”Sounds like you've got yourself some competition, Brian.”  
  
Brian crosses his arms, not straying from his position in the doorway, "I don't 'go for' anything, and how the fuck do you even know what this guy looks like – "   
  
”There's this thing called the internet – ”  
  
"Mel! Are you sure you don't want any coffee, Brian? And don't listen to her, I think it's cute that you're willing to win him back."  
  
”I really don't think he needs any more caffeine,” Mel says, smirking.   
  
"There will be no  _winning_  of anyone. This is a rescue mission." Brian glares at Mel, while she continues to smirk.  
  
A small smile spreads across Lindsay's face, "You're so adorable when you're in denial."  
  
  
*  
  
”If you're really concerned, you should just report him missing,” Emmett says, waving a french fry in Brian's face before stuffing it into his mouth. ” _That'll_  certain frighten off his new beau.”  
  
”Can't. He's been in contact, so according to the police, he's not missing.” Brian finishes his coffee and waits for Deb to swing by and refill it. She doesn't.   
  
"What did you do this time, asshole? You can't neglect him and expect him to stick around!"   
  
"I didn't  _do_  anything," Brian says, trying to sound calm.   
  
”Yeah, I bet you didn't, Justin deserves more than nothing.” Deb's voice rises an octave on the last word. ”He deserves to see the world, and if you're not gonna show it to him I'm glad he found someone who will.”  
  
”Deb, could you just. Just tell me where to find Horvath, would you? He might be able to help even though the department's refusing to officially.”  
  
”Oh no, I'm not letting you drag Carl into this.”  
  
  
*  
  
Let's face it, it's not like Brian wasn't expecting Justin to run off again. He wasn't about to get fooled twice. He's been keeping an eye out for warning signs. But there have been none this time. That coupled with Justin's sudden ”pleasure before business” attitude, and uncharacteristic phone calls should really clue people in to the fact that Brian's not having a case of overactive imagination.   
  
There's only one person Brian can think of that would lend a hand whether he believes Brian or not.  
  
”Hey, Mikey? How does a road trip sound?”   
  
  
*  
  
  
”I thought road trips were supposed to take place in cars.”  
  
”We're in a car now.”  
  
”I really don't think a half hour taxi ride can be called a road trip. And really,  _Atlanta_? Is there a bar opening? Or a party? Mardi Gras the second? I could've used some warning, you know. I don't think anything I brought can pass as party clothes.” Michael's brow furrows as he notices the Warped posters surrounding the area they're just entering, it's covered with unfamiliar names, and one that looks very familiar. ”This doesn't have anything to do with Justin's new boyfriend, does it?” Brian ignores the question and marches up towards the accreditation area, leaving Michael no choice but to follow him. ”Br _ian_.”  
  
  
*  
  
Michael's question remains unanswered and after being handed a laminated card and silver wrist band, Michael's forced to follow Brian around as he walks up to people who seem to know what they're doing. It doesn't take long for Michael to figure out that Brian's looking for Justin, and from what Brian's asking everyone who'll stand still for ten seconds, he's very serious about finding Justin in one piece.  
  
No one seems to know anything. Or rather, no one seems to care.  
  
“There are like, twelve Justins here that I know of. You're gonna have to be more specific,” a girl with a shaved head and monroe piercing says, before effortlessly wheeling off a an amp twice her size.  
  
The one guy willing to look at a Justin’s picture Brian brought asks if it's a 'before' picture, and then wonders if he can keep it. Brian fumes silently, and Michael briefly thinks it's a good thing looks can't kill.   
  
  
*  
  
  
After exactly ten insults, two times acting as targets for projectile spitting – for two different people, no less – five come-ons, and one “Mikey, I did not ask you along so you could eye-fuck people with blue mohawks. You're not helping. If you could just concentrate for today I promise to buy Ben some hair dye.” Michael has a rough character outline (with accompanying dialogue, mostly consisting of more variations of the word “fuck” than Michael ever thought existed) for villains for the next ten issues of Rage. It would all be very productive if only they could actually find Justin.   
  
Brian's resolve is as strong as ever, but Michael looks around more, trying to predict from whom the next insult will come. He spots two guys in black t-shirts approaching him and Brian, and pegs them as spitters (one of the guys' shirts has a pink gun on it, which Michael has learned in the past hour is always,  _always_  a bad sign). Michael debates tugging on Brian's sleeve to get his attention and warn him of the possibility of oncoming spitballs, but is distracted when he notices the guys are holding hands.   
  
“Hey.” It’s the shorter one – the one with the pink gun on his shirt, which Michael just notices also reads 'Sweet Little Dudes', and huh, that...really isn't threatening at all – stops about two feet away from them, wrapping one of his arms around the taller, bonier one's shoulders. They're both wearing pants that looks remarkably like girl’s jeans. “I've seen pictures of you,” he continues, looking up at Brian, waving a finger in his face. He looks drunk.  
  
“Excuse me?”  
  
“Well. Drawings, really.” He turns to the guy he's holding, who is squinting in Michael's general direction through his glasses. It’s in looking at his face Michael finally knows what his mom must've been talking about when she said 'if you keep making that face it’ll freeze that way'. “I told you there was something weird about that kid. There's no way anyone can have an instant connection with Gerard, and like, understand his vision and  _not_  be weird. I bet he's psychic.” He sounds high.   
  
Brian's eyes snap to the short, 'sweet little dude', at the mention of Gerard. “You know Gerard?”   
  
“Yeah,” squinty kid squints harder, one eyebrow presumably raising. “Why?”  
  
“We've been looking for him. We've got it under good authority that he's  _with_  a friend of ours,” Brian looks at the maybe drunk, maybe high, maybe just mentally retarded guy. “The guy who did the drawings, I'm pretty sure. I’m Brian, by the way, and that's Mikey.”  
  
“Pete,” probably mentally retarded guy says, as a smile splits his face. “And  _that_ ,” he cocks his head towards his companion, “is Mikey too. Got that? Mikey two. Haha.” Mikey just glares at Pete, like he's gotten used to the bad jokes. He doesn't say anything though. It's probably smart, Michael thinks, you don't want to enrage drunk, high, mentally retarded people.  
  
Pete invites Brian and Michael along to his tour bus, saying that Gerard would probably be around, and if he isn't Brian Schechter, the manager, probably is, and he definitely knows where Gerard is at all times, wink, wink, nudge, nudge.   
  
By the time they reach the buses, Michael decides that Pete is neither drunk, high, or retarded. He navigates the four of them around the maze of buses effortlessly, constantly making conversation and bad jokes (“Wouldn't it be funny if the world imploded when we meet Brian? Like, two Mikeys and two Brians! Too much for this world, there can only be one of each! Dum, dum, dummm.”). Well, maybe Michael hasn’t ruled out retarded yet.  
  
*  
  
The inside of the bus is. It's messy. There are two guys playing video games – they grunted their hellos and were introduced as Joe and Andy – on the floor in the lounge. The couch (or, what's supposed to be the couch) has been taken over by video game boxes and hoodies that all look alike to Michael's eyes. Pete still has one arm around Mikey, and Mikey's pulled out a sidekick, thumbs moving quickly over the tiny keyboard. Brian's arms are crossed, and he's barely one foot away from the stairs leading out.   
  
”You know, I've never been with two guys with the same name at once,” Pete says, and wiggles his eyebrows in what is clearly supposed to be a suggestive manner, but really isn’t. It looks more like something you'd see in a ”Laurel & Hardy” film.   
  
” _What?_ ” Mikey says, as his eye twitches visibly and he stops typing.  
  
”Um. I. I have a boyfriend. I mean. I'm in a committed relationship. A committed monogamous relationship.”  
  
”Yes, Pete, Mikey has a boyfriend,” Mikey says pointedly.  
  
”Hmm, the bunks are a little small but. Hey, Andy, how many were you – ”   
  
”Jesus, Pete,” Mikey mumbles behind his hand, seemingly shrinking under Pete's arm.  
  
”He's HIV positive,” Brian adds, as he inches his way towards the bus door, attention on a sheet of paper pinned to the wall; it looks like a map of the parking lot.  
  
”Hey!”  
  
”Sorry. What I meant to say is, Mikey's husband is HIV positive. Mikey's healthy as a horse. I wouldn't say he's hung like one, however.”  
  
” _Hey!_ ” Michael says again – or rather, shouts again.  
  
"Do. you. mind?" Joe stutters out, eyes still on the tv screen, punctuating every word with violent on screen move. "It's kinda hard to concentrate when you're talking gay, okay?"  
  
Andy nods in agreement, taking Joe's distraction as an opportunity to knock down Joe's avatar. ”Yeah, and the schedule clearly states that the MyChem bus is the gay bus while in Georgia. And it's getting a little crowded.”  
  
”Fine, we need to find Gerard anyway,” Pete says, and presses a kiss to Mikey's cheek before heading for the exit, pulling Mikey along by the hand. ”We were supposed to tell him what time slot they got, like, three hours ago.”  
  
  
*  
  
  
The bus Pete leads them to looks normal to Michael. A little bright, maybe, for a place that's supposed to house a hostage. It could be reverse psychology, he thinks, no one would expect the brightly colored bus to have a morbid inside.   
  
Michael braces himself and stays close to Brian as they step onto the bus, making sure Pete and Mikey get on before them so they can leave quickly if necessary.  
  
What meets them inside the bus doesn't look like a hostage situation at all. Michael whispers as much to Brian. Brian doesn't say anything, and keeps staring at the grown man sitting cross legged on the floor, with three diet coke cans lined up next to him.  
  
The bus is as messy as the one they just left, but in a different way. It almost looks like an art class exploded over the lounge, drawings methodically spread out across the floor, seemingly radiating from the guy sitting there.   
  
Pete points to the dark haired guy on the floor and introduces him as Gerard, and Gerard grins at them when Pete says their names. Mikey disappears behind a mini-fridge propped on the edge of a counter, and Pete starts telling Gerard about stages and amps, and sound checks, something that Michael doesn't really understand – he sounds like Ben when he's talking about the syllabus he's set up, or like Mel going off about some judge's ruling because it goes against some sort of regulation. Michael tunes it out, and tries to guess what Brian's next move will be. He's biting his lip, and standing awfully still. He's staring at the door at the far end of the lounge, it's slightly ajar and there's a faint sound of movement coming from inside.  
  
”Hey, Ray, did you hear? We've got half an hour,” Gerard shouts in the direction of the door Brian's been staring at. A tall guy with an afro comes out. He also happens to be wearing something that looks remarkably like a bullet proof vest, and carrying another that he tosses to Gerard. Brian turns to Michael. ”Does it look like a hostage situation now?” Brian says in a low voice.  
  
Gerard's just offered to get them coffee when Brian turns back to him and Ray, who's moved a stack of comic books from the couch and taken a seat. ”Why don't you just tell us what you want, and give back Justin.”  
  
Mikey emerges from behind the door of the mini fridge, a Coke Zero attached to his mouth, and two diet Cokes in his hand. His face is blank, but he swallows slowly. "Well this should be interesting," Mikey says as he tosses one of the cokes to Ray, and hands the other one to Pete. "Should we maybe record this so that our asses are covered legally?" Mikey asks Pete in a low voice. Pete shrugs. "Fuck if I know, it's usually stuff getting recorded that gets  _me_  in trouble."  
  
"I take it you want decaf then," Gerard says cautiously.   
  
”Who's Justin?” Pete asks, mouth full of M&Ms he found god knows where.   
  
”The blond kid who's been working on the preliminary artwork with Gerard,” Ray tells Pete. His voice sounds really high and soft; he sounds like Lindsay. Kidnapping innocent art students is probably his way of overcompensating.  
  
”Oh, psychic boy!” Pete exclaims, and pours a fistful of red M&Ms into Mikey's hand, picking out more red ones from the bag to give him.  
  
Michael's appalled by the entire exchange. ”You've got him  _working_  for you? Is that what the ransom is? Justin's artwork?”  
  
"If they wanted his art they would've grabbed me or Daphne. You don't kidnap the person who gives you the ransom. They're just exploiting the fact that they have him," Brian says, voice low and restrained.   
  
"Don't give them ideas!"  
  
”Michael, would you just. Stay quiet.” Brian turns his attention back to Gerard, who's face looks like a question mark. He fakes not knowing anything well, in Michael's opinion. "You do realize you're not supposed to get rid of the hostage until you ask for a ransom, right."  
  
"Um."  
  
"Where. Is. Justin?"  
  
”I'm not sure I'm comfortable disclosing his location to someone who sounds as unstable as you do,” Gerard says, sounding surprisingly calm and controlled. Then again, he's the one with a giant in a bulletproof vest on his side. He can afford calm. ”What exactly do you want from him?”  
  
“We're here to rescue him,” Michael says, and scratches the back of his head. Brian shoots him a stern look.   
  
This catches Ray's attention. “Huh? You're not from some religious group are you? We've already been over this. We don't worship the devil.”   
  
Michael can't help but notice Pete and Mikey standing in a corner of the bus, half observing, half wrapped up in each other. Pete's laughing quietly, one hand in Mikey's back pocket. Mikey's head is leaning against Pete's shoulder - he seems more interested in Pete's reaction to what's going on than what's actually going on. “I can't believe Dirty was around to film the time I ate all the salt left in the shaker, but he's not here to capture this primetime -worthy melodrama.” Pete skirts around the drawings strewn across the floor, leaving Mikey in the corner. He doesn't look that amused. “I'll be right back!”  
  
There seems to be a bit of a commotion outside when Pete leaves, and Michael thinks he's come back really quick when someone comes up behind them. Then he notices that he's blond, and not wearing make up and not wearing black, and huh, smiling? Why would Justin be smiling when he's being held hostage? Justin looks like he'd tackle Brian to the ground were he not carrying three huge Starbucks coffees.   
  
“Brian! Michael! You know, if you'd called, I would've brought you guys coffee too.” He gives Gerard and Ray a cup each and keeps one for himself. Justin maneuvers his way over to Brian, and presses small kisses to Brian's jawline. Brian pulls him close, grip tight, and Justin's barely balancing the cup in his free hand as he continues, ”Not that I don't appreciate the surprise.”  
  
”I got your message,” Brian says, his hand squeezing Justin's shoulder. ”We should probably leave now, while we can.”  
  
”I know you like public sex and all, but I think we'd be safer staying here. This is the gay bus for Georgia,” Justin says face still leaning into the crook of Brian's neck. ”They have to go warm up soon enough, we can just stay here.”  
  
”We're still here you know,” Ray pipes in. ”Hearing intact!”  
  
”No. Outside is safe. Pittsburgh is safe. This,” Brian gestures around the bus, ”is not.”  
  
”Okay, Brian, remember when you told me not to take drugs from people I don't know? You do realize you're supposed to do as you say, right?”  
  
”I think you two need to speak in private,” Gerard says, and points in the direction of the bathroom. ”Go ahead.”  
  
Justin pulls Brian in that direction, giving Michael his coffee. Brian and Justin squeeze into the bathroom, door barely closing behind them. There's some low mumbling heard, but Michael can't discern any actual words.  
  
”They better not be having sex,” Ray says. Gerard laughs, Mikey snorts.  
  
”Dude, if they manage to have sex in there they must want it real bad. The bruises will be punishment enough,” Mikey says, before finishing off the red M&Ms Pete left him.  
  
”Oh my  _god_ , Mikey. You said you got mauled by a fan!” Ray exclaims, sounding horrified.  
  
”I'm not surprised, he looked way too happy every time he saw that bruise,” Gerard says, before taking a big gulp of coffee.   
  
The sound of talking coming from the bathroom gets louder, it's starting to sound more like yelling to Michael. He still can't make out anything they're saying, and he doesn't really want to hear in case the yelling's actually some sort of sex noise. For all Michael knows he could trapped in a very elaborate session of Brian and Justin's roleplaying. Stranger things have happened. The supposed kidnappers don't look that threatening: Gerard's debating possible hair colors aloud as he puts on his vest, Ray's whistling and rifling through a comic book, and Mikey's examining the label on the coke he was drinking.  
  
”So, uh, Mikey huh?” Michael says to Mikey loudly, trying to drown out the sounds from the bathroom.   
  
Mikey drinks some of his coke.   
  
”I've never met any grown ups who go by 'Mikey',” Michael says. ”How do you get people to take you seriously?”  
  
”I've been a Mikey for as long as I can remember,” Mikey says, and huh, maybe Pete wasn't the retarded one after all. Michael shifts his weight and turns back to Gerard, who's drawing again. He looks like a kid who got tired of trick or treating and just sat down on the street and started doodling.  
  
”So, what's with all the spitting? Brian and I were like, attacked by spitballs as soon as we got backstage.”  
  
”It depends on who does it,” Gerard says, without taking his eyes from his sketch. ”It's either this affectionate, stamp of approval thing or,” he looks up, ”it can also mean 'get the fuck out of my line of sight or I will knock you out'. I've been telling the management that we could use anger management classes on tour but I think they like their rock stars angry.”  
  
”That's...reassuring,” Michael says, and thinks maybe Justin was right when he said the inside of the bus was safe. Michael's train of thought is interrupted by Justin and Brian coming out of the bathroom, both looking far too frustrated to have had any kind of sex in there.  
  
Justin turns to Gerard, “I thought you said Brian knew.”  
  
“He does,” Gerard says, only now stopping to draw.  
  
“No, I didn't,” Brian counters with, fingers rhythmically tapping against the wall.  
  
“But you're not Brian.”  
  
“Yes, he is,” Michael and Justin say simultaneously.  
  
“Well, yeah, but he's not the Brian I was talking about. You've met Brian. Lots of tattoos. Always telling us we stink. Attached to his sidekick. Really hot. He's our manager.”  
  
”Oh. That. That actually kind of makes sense,” Justin says, and Brian just raises his eyebrows.  
  
”So wait, Justin wasn't kidnapped? And Gerard's not his new boyfriend?” Michael asks Brian. Justin looks offended.   
  
”That's a new one,” Gerard says and laughs. ”Pete's the one who kidnaps people, not me,” he says, and Mikey rolls his eyes.  
  
”Speaking of Pete, I should probably go make sure he's still alive,” Mikey says. ”Last time I left him for more than ten minutes he and Dirty were about to start a water balloon fight in the Midtown bus.”   
  
"No, Michael. I was working, as you can see," Justin says, and nods in the direction of the floor. If he looks a little closer, Michael can see that some of the drawings look a little like Justin's art work for Rage. It's kind of hard to see when the drawings are upside down, though.  
  
”You know. Even though I'm supposed to be the bad guy in this scenario, it's still incredibly romantic. You,” Gerard nods in Brian's direction, ”coming all the way here to rescue your one true love.”  
  
”I don't know about that,” Brian says, and Justin elbows him lightly in the chest.   
  
”Shut up, it's totally romantic, whether you admit it or not.”  
  
”Seriously! It's this Herculean tale of rescue. Like a fairytale,” Gerard says around the marker cap suddenly in his mouth, black Sharpie in hand, moving swiftly over his skin, ”except you know, without all the death, and dragons setting people on fire, and mutilations. Fairytales are some nasty shit.” He blows on his arm, and stretches it out, thick black letters declaring 'fairy'.  
  
”In your honor! I'd write you a song, but I don't see it fitting into the theme we've got going...unless – ”   
  
”We are not making the next album about a fairytale,” Ray says, not even looking at Gerard, ”and I can tell you right now that any concept you pitch with the words 'dragon', 'fairytale' or any variation of 'Herculean' is out of the question.”  
  
”Fine,” Gerard says curtly, and heads to the bathroom where he starts to apply on eyeliner. ”But, from now on, your precious studio will no longer be considered a safe zone from the force that is known as Pete and Mikey.” Gerard's not looking very threatening leaning against the small sink, mouth hanging open.  
  
”There's only a week left to the tour, I'll just barricade myself in.”  
  
Gerard comes back from the bathroom. ”That's never stopped them before,” he says, one eyebrow raised.  
  
”They'll never go in there if I throw in some of your used socks,” Ray says, raising an eyebrow. Gerard seems to ponder the scenario, not offended in the least, while Brian and Michael look absolutely horrified. Justin just laughs quietly. ”You'd need an industrial strength libido to get past that.”  
  
”You know, at this point I think the smell's an aphrodisiac for Pete. And I'm pretty sure Mikey's immune.”  
  
”That's disgusting. Probably true, but still disgusting.” Gerard shrugs at that, and steals a glance at the clock above the microwave. ”We should probably go warm up,” Gerard turns says and turns to Brian and Justin. ”I know this is supposed to be the gay bus this week an all, but my bunk is off limits. And, whatever you do on that couch, you should probably know that Pete and Mikey have most likely done it before. That's why I don't sit there. And uh, don't tell Ray,” he adds the last part in a low voice, before leaving the bus.   
  
”I am so confused,” Michael says, eyes wide.  
  
”Well you won't be for long, since you're going to write an entire Rage issue about how JT ran off with some rockstars, and no one believed Rage when he said so. Isn't that so, Justin?”  
  
”You know, I got a new project for Kinnetik, for  _you_. You should be thanking me,” Justin says, eyes narrowed.   
  
”I'm sure you jumped at the chance to work with a rock star and travel around with them for  _me_.”  
  
"Of course. I'm opening up the whole country for you," Justin says, before quickly licking his lips. "I know you fucked Mister Hotlanta, but have actually fucked  _in_ Atlanta?"   
  
"Is that an offer?"  
  
"It's a challenge."  
  
"Okaaay," Michael says, drawing out the last syllable loudly. "I think it's time for me to give Ben a call, I wouldn't want him to think I've gotten kidnapped."  
  
"And ease him into the idea of dying his hair blue, I'm sure," Brian says, still staring at Justin, who's smiling crookedly.   
  
”You know, if I get spit on, I'm sending you the dry cleaning bill, Brian.” 

**Author's Note:**

> This is a repost from LJ -- slowly working my way through those.
> 
> Title from MCR's "The Sharpest Lives". Gerard really did write 'FAIRY' on his arm at the Atlanta date '05 and there really is a 'Sweet Little Dudes' shirt.


End file.
